


The Machinist

by outofordxr



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Pimp, Elijah Kamski Being Elijah Kamski, Elijah Kamski Being an Asshole, M/M, My mans Kamski, Papi Chulo Kamski, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexy Times, Silicon Valley Fucklord, Victor is a shit, Victor is basically a Traci, sexbot?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofordxr/pseuds/outofordxr
Summary: Elijah Kamski created Victor to experience love for him. Not a superiority complex.





	The Machinist

**Author's Note:**

> More self-indulgent bullshit.

_ “Awaken TY900…” _

The sultry, dark voice snaked around me, wrapping around my throat and forearms. I could only push a breath past my lips and loll my head to one side for a second before opening my eyes. The man before me was pale and his icy eyes raked down my body like a predator. His name appeared in my vision and I drank it in greedily. He was gorgeous. His presence was domineering. Even the curve of his lips was dangerous.

He was Elijah Kamski.

“Register your name,” he orders, tilting his head. He looked up at me on my rack, as if I were an exotic animal stuffed and presented. “Victor.”

“My name is Victor.” I answered, confirming his request. He smirked in satisfaction and finally stepped forward, laying a hand down on my hip. I shivered as he ran his hands down and back down to his side. My eyes never left him, while his explored the planes of my abdomen.

“Look at you…” he murmured, and I dared glance down at myself. I was disappointed to see that I had no legs yet. Open circuits and plugged blue tubes hung from the stump where my hips would be the widest. “You’re already so beautiful, despite being incomplete.”

I stayed silent, looking back at him. His gaze was back on my face, and he pressed his hand flat on my stomach. His eyes darted to my chest when I simulated a shaky inhale; he was unreadable. All I knew is I wanted to be finished so I could join him on the floor, and touch him. He looked cold, as if his own flesh was made of ice. My breathing hitched when he looked back up at me darkly.

“What...are you  _ feeling _ , Victor?”

My mouth went dry, and I hastily licked my lips. I searched as much as I could for a programmed answer to his question, but came up with nothing. After I stared down at him in panic for exactly fifteen seconds, I finally answered: “I don’t know.”

Elijah cocked a brow and tilted his head again, eyes narrowing in something I could only describe as curiosity. His hand dropped and left an imprint on my synthetic skin where the cold licked at me. I nearly whined, feeling lonely as soon as he did so. The ravenet picked up a pair of glasses off of the pristine metal table underneath me, and slid them on to his face. They lit up something in his eyes and I realized that he was being allowed to see me the way that I saw the world.

“What have you been dreaming of?” Elijah asked, meticulously choosing a tool from his work space. He was continuing to build me.

“I haven’t been.”

“Oh?” The man began his work. “Is there a specific reason for that?”

“I have nothing to dream of.” I replied, wondering if the panel he was adding was warm in his fingers or if it even felt like a part of a person yet.

“Should I prompt you?”

“I always enjoy when you prompt me, Elijah.”

“Alright,” he hummed, tapping a pen like device to his chin. My skin prickled as I half expected him to zap himself with the pen. “What is something you want to do once you are complete?”

“You always ask me this. And I say the same thing…”

“ _ ‘I want to spend time with you, Elijah.’ _ ” he clicked his tongue scoldingly. “You sound like a child, Victor. What is it you want? I created you to spend time with me, but you won’t be much fun just trailing me like a brainwashed puppy.”

I took offense to this for some reason, and if I had legs I would have kneed him in that angular face of his. He looked up at me expectantly and I had to glance away, looking like a scolded child. I knew he was right.

“I want to touch you,” I said softly, noticing his pause as he swapped a tool out. “I want to feel you, and hold your hand. I would like to meet one of the Chloe’s and get to know her, befriend her. I want to experience things with you.”

“What kind of things?”

I waited a moment, hesitating to answer.

“Sexual things?” he pressed.

“No,” I snapped, immediately flinching at my own impulsivity. I found discomfort in the lack of reaction from him. “As pleasurable as sex sounds, Elijah, I was referring to more  _ mundane _ things. Like sleeping, and meals…”

“Intriguing.” He smiled, as if he knew I would say that. “To humans, those activities are just another part of life. We don’t look forward to it much, yet you want to experience it.”

I pursed my lips and kept my eyes averted. About ten minutes passed when I mustered up the courage to question him.

“Pardon my...anxiety,” I began. “But are you going to make more models of me?”

“I’m not planning on it, no.” Elijah peaked his eyebrows and moved his head in a bobbing motion, keeping his focus on the panel that would begin my thigh. “Why would that make you anxious? Are you  _ jealous _ ?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Tell me what you’re thinking, Victor.”

“I like when you say my name.”

“Why are you jealous at the idea of being one of many?”

I took a shaky breath and sighed, my chest panel feeling like it was crushing the components under it.

“I do not like the idea of being... _ expendable _ .” This grabbed my creator’s attention and he looked up at me, almost surprised. “I want to be the only man you give your romantic and sexual attention to, Elijah.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and circled the table, to apply the rest of my lower back, I assumed. His voice crawled up my shoulders and in to my audio receptors, giving me the sensation of the muscles there tightening.

“You want to be an individual, Victor.”

“Why do I feel these things, Elijah?” I couldn’t stop the question from tumbling out of my lips once they appeared in my head. Once again I was cursing my own bluntness. I could hear him chuckle behind me.

“I didn’t program you.”

“What do you mean you didn’t program me? I’ve been in here with you since I was just a head.” I remember the flashbulb memory of him activating my optical receptors for just a second. He looked gorgeous, and he had a crease between his eyebrows from either frustration or focus. I savored that memory.

“Yes,” he drawled. “But I did not program you for anything, Victor. You have no meaning, yet. You don’t have a protocol, or preprogrammed emotions and whims. You simply are. You get to choose who you are.”

The word flashed before my eyes in bright red font:  _ DEVIANT _ .

“You created a deviant from scratch?” I asked, breathless from fear.

“You didn’t have a program to deviate from.  _ You are even closer to humanity than any of the models being produced in the CyberLife tower as we speak _ .”

My skin crawled at that and I revelled in the information. I was one of a kind, and felt...ethereal. I was the only one of my kind. I was closest to the humans than the others. 

“So, that begs the question...” he returned to the spot in front of me. The way he admired me was pleasing to see. Elijah crossed his arms and stared up at me in challenge. 

_ “Who are you, Victor?” _ _ _


End file.
